It might surprise you to know that I'm a bit of an amateur scientist. (Maybe it wouldn't. But it surprised me to type that sentence, as dissection makes me hyperventilate.) Recently, I let a few bananas get a tad overripe, and my kitchen was overrun with fruit flies. I figured the best way to turn lemons into lemonade (or bananas into banana bread, if you would) was to conduct a few experiments. The results were shocking.

I put a clear glass bowl over the banana mush, gave them a little water, and started right away. First, I subjected my fruit flies to ten days of Sweatin' to the Oldies VHS tapes. Sure enough, within 40 days, all of my first-generation fruit flies were dead (though two insisted on getting a Richard Simmons perm before expiring). Proven fact: exercise is bad for you.

My next generation had it a little easier. I fed them lentils and a high-fiber supplement that rhymes with Betabucil to see how they'd do. All were dead within 37 days. Proven Fact: a high-fiber diet is even more lethal than exercise.

I had a few more theories to test. One generation was subjected to three days straight of Under the Mistletoe by Justin Bieber. Sadly, I didn't stop this experiment early enough, and I lost several fruit flies when they threw themselves in the water bowl to escape the madness. It was a veritable fruit fly suicide.Proven Fact: Justin Bieber = death.

Next up, I gave some flies the cheap dollar store chocolates that Jason bought me for Easter instead of going to Munson's, like I'd hinted at for days leading up to the holiday. (Honestly - how do you misinterpret a text that reads "Munson's has choc. covered Peeps. Bring some home or don't come home" ?) Sure enough, the fruit flies were dead within 40 days of being subjected to cheap cocoa and powdered milk.Proven Fact: Next time, don't cheap out on the chocolates, pal!

Finally, it occurred to me that all of my experiments had been negative. What if I tried something fun, that I was sure would bring about positive results? So I played the DVD of Sing Blue Silver, a documentary of Duran Duran's 1983-84 World Tour. Unbelievably, all of my fruit flies were dead within 40 days. But I looked closer. Underneath the microscope, the evidence was clear: each one of those buggers had died with a tiny fruit fly smile on their faces.Proven Fact: Duran Duran is good for the soul.

Next week: My hilarious exploits as I try to rid my kitchen of fruit flies.

I have no new blog post this week. That's right. I'm tired, I have a New England Horror Writers event this weekend, and weekend. As a faithful reader, you must be outraged right about now. I’ve got a lot of nerve, I’m sure you’re thinking. Who do I think I am?

In response to your outrage, I have compiled a fun list of things you can do instead of sending me death threats this weekend. Why not...

1. Visit a local dairy farm and find out how milk gets from cow to carton. Do NOT, however, visit a local slaughterhouse to find out how sausage is made, unless you've been seriously considering becoming a vegetarian. Just trust me on this one, okay?

2. Use your iPhone to film your own zombie apocalypse movie. This is a low budget, high payoff event that will bring the whole family together for the low, low price of one bucket of pigs' brains.

3. Teach yourself how to play electric guitar. You’ve always wanted to learn—now, with no pesky blog post to distract you this weekend, you can finally take the time to do it. Not enough cash on hand to buy that Stratocaster you've always wanted? You can satisfy your need to impress the chicks by getting serious about learning the air guitar.

4. Write the Great American Novel. Go ahead. Give it a shot and let me know how that goes for you.

5. Write to your local congressman to complain about the state of the economy. Do not, however, write to grouse about my lack of a blog post this week. If you use proper grammar, punctuation, and verb tenses, he or she might even invite you to the state capitol for a nice lunch.

Now that you have some fun options for the weekend, I'm going to go take a nap. I'll see you next week.

Oops—Joe Courtney's on the phone again, wanting to know why I promised everyone lunch. Ingrate. You think he'd be happy that I sent so many disgruntled voters his way!